It's Just a Flesh Wound
by Berry the fangirl
Summary: After the death of their father, Dean is fed up with his brother and decides to shut him out. But will he snap out of his despair to help out when Sam falls ill? Hurt/Angst/Sick Sam, Angst/Big bro Dean and concerned Bobby. Bit of swearing but not much!
1. Chapter 1

**Thought it was time for another Supernatural story of pure Sam whump! I am attempting a longer story as opposed to another one-shot. Let me know what you think, reviews are much-loved! XD I am writing further chapters at the moment so hopefully the next update shouldn't be too far away! **

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><p>It has been four days since the death of John Winchester. Four days since the failure to apprehend his killer, the yellow-eyed demon. Four days since Dean Winchester had graced Sam with the power of speech. Four days since Sam's major screw-up, causing destruction in the already fragile Winchester family.<p>

Sam stared out of the small window in Bobby Singer's kitchen, watching his older brother mending the destroyed Impala. He knew Dean wasn't coping well with their father's death, but he sure as Hell wasn't going to talk about it, so all Sam could do was watch from a distance. He hated feeling this helpless, that he couldn't stop his brother from the emotional turmoil he was facing. Then again, Sam wasn't exactly doing brilliantly himself. Despite their arguments, Sam loved his dad and missed him dearly. If that wasn't bad enough, he was still reeling from the loss of his beloved Jessica; he still had the nightmares of her burning on the ceiling of their shared apartment. What made the grief worse for Sam is that he was convinced he was to blame for everything. Their mother, Jess, their father… all killed by a demon that wanted Sam for some big plan that no one could figure out. If it hadn't been for him, they would all still be alive; and Sam was pretty certain that Dean felt the same, hence the lack of communication. Every time Sam entered a room, Dean would leave, mumbling some excuse to Bobby, who would give Sam a sympathetic shrug that said "give him time, it'll get better" but still seemed uncertain. At one point Sam had manage to get Dean to speak – well, more yell – telling Sam it was "too little, too late". Since them Sam gave up trying to get Dean to open up, and instead settled into a routine of staring at his brother from afar.

"You know if he catches you staring like that he'll start one of his rants," Bobby muttered in his ear, causing Sam to jump.

"I wasn't staring…" Sam lied.

"Yeah, and I'm Julia Roberts. Face it Sam, Dean just deals with grief by shutting himself off from the world. He doesn't do talking like us normal human beings. Something he inherited from John if I'm not mistaken," the old hunter chuckled as he thought of the happier times with his recently departed friend.

"I know Bobby, it's just frustrating. I understand his need for personal space right now, but I really wish he didn't look at me like I was a piece of bird shit spoiling the bonnet of the car. Do you think he blames me for… what happened?"

Bobby responded by smacking the young Winchester on the back of the head. "Don't you start that boy! Self-pity ain't gonna get you anywhere!"

"I wasn't feeling sorry for myself Bobby! I just want to know why he is so pissed off at me, and I'm running out of ideas!"

"He's full of rage," Bobby explained, a little gentler. "The tiniest thing will set him off, and it seems you constantly asking him if he is all right is one of those triggers. Just back off for a while. He knows you care and you are there when he is ready. Now, let's get you doing something useful. I still have a fully functioning scrap yard and want to continue with the business. So you can give me a hand while I work."

"Ok, but you know how useless I am at this kind of handy work. I was always more of an academic…"

"Fine, you can be my caddy. Carry my tools and bring the beer when I get thirsty. Plus your brute strength might be useful at moving the heavier pieces, my back ain't what it once was."

"I told you you were too old for physical work, granddad." Sam teased, receiving another clip around the ears.

"Get a move on ya cheeky git."

Sam smiled at him and picked up the tool box, ready to follow Bobby outdoors and help.

xxx

Bobby didn't actually have any work to do, but he just needed to get Sam's mind on other things. He was struggling with grief, guilt and worrying over Dean, and it wasn't doing him any favours. Sam had hardly eaten a thing since the accident and had barely slept, probably plagued by nightmares. Yet, typical Sam spent his energy worrying about Dean instead of taking care of himself. If Bobby dared to ask how he is, he would grumble "I'm fine Bobby"; the way Sam complained about Dean bottling things up made him a complete hypocrite, but Bobby wasn't willing to point that out to the kid.

Dean of course had been completely oblivious to Sam's fragile state, but Bobby didn't blame him for that. Dean was in an equally bad place, and was taking his father's death worse than his little brother. Dean had always has a better relationship with John than Sam had, especially during the years Sam spent at Stanford. Then again, Dean didn't have a dead girlfriend, freaky visions or a son-of-a-bitch demon trying to drag him into something sinister. Thus, he didn't really have a reason to be so bitchy at his brother. However, Bobby knew better than to get too involved with a Winchester fall out; that family had some bizarre issues that only they could understand. Bobby therefore would sit back and allow them to work things out while still looking out for the boys; he was determined to keep the promise he made to John after Mary died, that if anything should happen to him then Bobby would take care of his sons. After all these years, Bobby considered Sam and Dean as his own, and would care for them for as long as he lived.

Bobby walked slowly around the scrap yard, trying desperately to find something to work on. Eventually, he spotted an old truck that he had neglected but had one day planned to restore. Well, no time like the present eh?

"All right Sam, see these truck? He's gonna get a makeover!"

Sam turned his nose at the wreckage. "You mean this rusty hunk a junk? I just need to glare at the thing and it would fall apart! Why are you bothering?"

"If you saw a sick dog at the side of the road with three legs whimpering for help, would you just leave it there as it will probably die eventually?"

"Bobby, don't compare an inanimate object to a living thing, it's completely different."

"Not to me it ain't Sam. This poor boy just needs some love."

"Ugh, you're worse than my brother!" Sam gave a chuckle, but then cringed when he realised what he said. Remembering the happier times with his brother upset him due to the current state of things.

Seeing the pain on Sam's face, Bobby pretended not to notice and carried on talking. "Don't listen to him boy, he just doesn't understand you. Anyway, I think I can save most of the doors, but the driver's door is beyond help. We'll need to find a replacement. Sam, do you think you could go to that pile of doors over there and find something similar to the rest?"

"You have a pile of car doors just lying around?"

"I need to keep all the parts in some sort of order, so if I ever need parts I can find them easily. It's basic organisation. And I thought you were the academic?"

"Shut up. I'll go find your damn door!" Sam feigned annoyance, causing Bobby to laugh. Sam went in search for the door while Bobby got to work dismantling the truck.

After what felt like years, Sam finally came across a door that would fit the truck. As he made his way back, he passed the Impala, but failed to notice his older sibling working underneath. It was almost inevitable that Sam would trip over the elder Winchester's legs and fall flat on his face. Sam felt a sharp pain in his side, and found a small piece of metal imbedded into his skin. _Wonderful, _Sam thought miserably.

"What the Hell Sam?" Dean screamed, pulling himself out from underneath the car and promptly standing over his fallen brother. "Can't you watch where you're going? You made me scratch the metalwork!"

_Yeah like you could notice, _Sam thought, but decided against voicing that sarcasm. "Sorry Dean," he voted for mumbling instead.

"Oh you're sorry are you? Well just tell me what on Earth you are doing wandering around here when I specifically told you to leave me the Hell alone?"

"Bobby asked me to help. He's fixing a truck and asked me to find a spare door."

"Bobby must have lost his mind asking an incompetent idiot like you help with important work like that!" Dean spat.

Sam sighed. He had not wanted to start another fight with his brother, and his massive feet had literally stepped right into it. He stood up, wincing slightly at the pain in his side, and picked up the fallen door muttering, "yeah, well maybe he has, but I thought I'd humour him nonetheless."

"Getting sarcastic now are we? College boy wanting to be clever with his dumb older brother?"

"It's not like that Dean and you know it. But I'm not going to argue with you about it, I'm clearly just in your way so I'll go back to what I was doing." He heard Bobby calling for him and saw him coming around the corner. He turned to leave, when Dean's words stopped him in his tracks.

"That's an understatement Sam. You've been in the way since the day you were born. Because of you our parents are gone, and some innocent girl who, for some reason fell for you, died as well. The demon wants you, yet you feel it's necessary to drag us all into your mess. Well I'm tired of it, and I'm damned if I'm going to die because of you!" Dean was breathing heavily, exploding with suppressed rage.

Sam didn't look back at his brother. He was shocked at Dean's outburst, yet deep down he suspected this was how Dean felt. At this moment he had to get away from his sibling, scared of further verbal abuse. He saw Bobby staring at both of them, unsure what to say. Sam just walked up to him and gave him the door. "I hope this will do," he mumbled. "If it's Ok with you I'd like to wash this dirt off."

"Uh, sure Sam…" Bobby wanted to say more, but the boy just wandered away without a second glance, walking towards the house like a robot. He saw Sam's eyes briefly, and was terrified as to how dull and empty they looked, as though Dean's words had stolen the life out of them. _Great, _Bobby thought, _I guess my idea that Sam was starting to recover has just been ruined._


	2. Chapter 2

**Hey! Thank you all so much! I couldn't believe it when I signed into my email account to find 45 emails (plus 18 from last night) from FanFic for this story. I was not expecting so much support, so thanks soooooooo much! Hopefully I was successful in replying to reviews (a couple of people did review but there wasn't a reply option so if you missed a thanks from me that will be why, I very much appreciate your reviews!). Since you have all been so lovely I got chapter 2 finished asap :) I am about to start writing chapter 3 now, but since my parents don't like me being on my laptop for a long time I may not get it finished until tomorrow or possibly the weekend. I want to be a quick updater for this story. Not sure how long I'm going to make it but let's see...**

**Some people who commented were concerned about Dean's cruelty, but never fear! I will be bringing back the lovely big brother Dean we know and love so well, thanks to a bit of help from Bobby :P**

**I hope you enjoy this chapter! Again, thanks guys, I am very happy right now XD  
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><p>Bobby turned to look at the older Winchester, who was staring angrily at his brother. Bobby threw down the door that Sam had given to him and stood right in front of Dean.<p>

"I've had enough of your brooding boy, you're lucky I haven't kicked your insolent ass!"

"Don't you start –" Dean quickly shut up when Bobby delivered a hard smack to the back of his head (Bobby's punishment was the same for both boys and was very effective).

"Don't you dare interrupt me! Now I know things are hard for you right now, but what you just did was unacceptable. You want to take your anger out on someone? Take it out on me, 'cause I don't really give a crap. You and Sam need to stick together right now – don't look at me like that! I know damn well you don't hate Sam, or blame him for what happened, so I can only assume your little outburst was just to upset him. Well guess what, it worked. I hope you feel better." Bobby was practically screaming by now. He wondered if he should have been more gentle with Dean, but Hell he had been gentle for the past few days and it seemed to do sod all.

Dean sighed and looked at the ground. "I can't help it Bobby. I'm just so… angry, yet upset. I guess Sam's just an easy target. But before you say it, I'm not going to apologise. It's just going to result in a 'talk' and I don't think I can handle a Sam talk right now."

Bobby's rage had started to subside; in fact, he couldn't help feeling sorry for the kid – with all that he's been through this last week he has the right to be a little bitchy. Although, his behaviour towards Sam moments earlier was horrendous.

"I know you are son, but you can't keep hurting your brother like this; despite what you might think he isn't handling this well either. I can't make you talk to Sam, but you know it has to happen eventually. And if I need to beat your heads together in a week's time, I will."

Dean snorted at that thought. "I can imagine. Wouldn't want to come across you in a dark alley – give me a vengeful spirit or vamp any day!"

"Damn right, I'm scarier than most things in this world!" Bobby exclaimed with false smugness. Much to Bobby's delight, Dean laughed for the first time since that fateful day. Even if just for a few seconds.

xxx

Sam somehow managed to drag himself into Bobby's house and into the ensuite attached to his bedroom – it always amazed him how Bobby could afford a house with so many bathrooms. Although he had gotten dirty from the fall, that wasn't the reason he needed a shower. He had to wash away his failures. Dean's words had stung harder than the metal shard piercing his left side, and he suddenly felt unclean. From a young age, whenever Sam felt guilty or worthless, he would become overly OCD and need to wash himself. He couldn't figure out why, he just associated worthlessness with uncleanliness.

After undressing, Sam turned on the faucet and stepped into the tub, allowing the hot water to spill over his tall, muscular frame. He gradually lowered his body so that he was sitting in the tub. He grabbed a bar of soap from the dish at the far end of the bath and proceeded to scrub himself clean.

This routine went on for a whole hour, until Sam's skin had been rubbed raw and slightly scalded by the hot water. He hadn't notice the time going by as his mind had been replaying Dean's outburst over and over. He had even managed to forget the piece of metal until now, so he placed a hand on his side. However, he could no longer feel the tiny shard; he figured he must have knocked it out whilst cleaning himself. Finally accepting that he was clean enough for now, he got out of the tub and quickly dried himself. He went into his bedroom and pulled a set of clean clothes from his duffel and dressed himself.

His cleaning session made him feel a little better, but he couldn't escape Dean's hateful words ringing in his ear. His brother was always adamant that he did not hold Sam accountable for what happened to their mother or Jess. _"It's not your fault Sammy," _he would always say. That's what really got Sam – it wasn't just that Dean blamed him for everything; it was the fact that for all this time his brother had been lying to him. For 23 years Dean had hidden his true feelings towards his brother. Sam knew that no matter what shit went on in their lives, he could always count on Dean. He could always TRUST him. Not now. His brother had lied to him. What else had Dean been lying about? Sam shuddered; he did not want to think about that.

To try and take his mind off things, Sam took a look at his side. The bleeding had stopped, and even after such a short space of time the wound had almost healed over. He didn't really see a point in dressing the injury so he just left it alone. _I cleaned it pretty thoroughly in the shower, I doubt I'll need an antiseptic, _he thought.

Sam wondered what he should do. He considered going downstairs, but he didn't want to risk a run in with Dean. On the other hand, there was absolutely nothing for him to do in this room, except roaming the internet. Frankly, he wasn't in the mood for another "Asian Beauty" video, or something of that ilk. He never used social networking sites like other students, so he couldn't start a random conversation with someone online. Pretty dangerous for a hunter anyway. As Sam contemplated what he could do, there was a knock at the door.

"Sam? It's Bobby. Can I come in?"

"It's your house, do as you please." Sam hadn't intended to be so cold and blunt, but he had a feeling there was going to be an interrogation into his state of mind after the brotherly battle. Bobby opened the door and peered into the room. Satisfied that the young hunter was 'decent', he entered.

"No need to be snide. Just wondered how you were."

"Just peachy thanks."

"How's the side? I saw you clutching it after you fell."

"All right," Sam's tone became friendlier – the guy was just looking out for him. Besides, making Bobby mad was not something Sam wanted – he was the only one giving him the time of day at the moment. He continued talking, "A little scrap of metal embedded itself into the skin, but it must have fallen out in the shower. The wound isn't bleeding so it should be just fine."

Bobby stared at Sam for a moment, then nodded, satisfied that the kid wasn't lying. "I was going to start dinner in a while – I'm thinking chilli. You want some?"

"No thanks, I'm not really that hungry." That was partly true, but it was pretty obvious that Sam's avoidance of dinner was in fact an avoidance of the older brother. Bobby of course, had the solution.

"You don't have to eat in the kitchen, I can bring something up for you. You clean the plate later mind, I ain't your maid."

"Well… all right, thanks," Sam blushed, slightly embarrassed that Bobby had seen right through him.

"Not a problem. Look, I know you are going to do the whole macho Winchester crap of 'not talking about it', so I ain't going to ask you to talk about what just happened between you and that brother of yours. I just think you should know that Dean didn't mean what he said. He's hurting and he thinks you ain't – he's an eejit I know – so he is trying to upset you. He reckons if he gets a reaction it will make him feel better, and you might stay out of his way. A little illogical, but since when did your family ever do things normally? Anyway, deep down he does NOT blame you, and yes, he still loves you. You hear me?"

"Yeah Bobby." But Sam honestly didn't believe a word of it. He was convinced Bobby was just trying to make Sam feel better.

"No you don't. You ain't believing a word of it!" _God, when did I become so transparent? _Sam thought.

"I think I just need time Bobby. I'll get over it." He offered Bobby a smile, hoping that this would convince the older man to drop the subject.

"Hmmm. All right then. Anyway, you look beat. Maybe you should take a nap?"

Sam had to admit, he was exhausted. The last time he had a decent night's sleep was a couple of weeks before Jess died. Since then, he was plagued by nightmares and was lucky to manage a few hours of shut eye a day. It was enough to survive, and Dean's endless caffeine cravings meant that he was constantly filled up with coffee, allowing him to be alert on hunts. But after dad's deaths, there were no hunts, no coffee stops, and an ever increasing number of night terrors – all in all leaving a pretty fatigued Sam.

"Sounds like a good idea, I might just do that."

"Wonderful. I'll go down and start dinner, should take a couple of hours. I like to take my time with chilli." He made his way out of Sam's room.

"Hey, Bobby?"

"Mmm?"

"Thanks." Bobby turned and nodded at Sam, and made his way downstairs to prepare dinner.

Sam flopped down onto his bed, expecting his usual visual delights as he barely slept, determined to push him further towards insanity. Despite this, Sam's body quickly gave up the fight with sleep and he drifted off.

xxx

Dean was a little disappointed at the lack of reaction from his brother. He was hoping that Sam would fight back, giving him a reason to let off more steam. He hated to admit it, but yelling at someone made him feel a Hell of a lot better. He was a lot like John in that respect. Sam had always been the quietest, although he wasn't afraid to speak his mind around their father. The rest of the time though Sam was a broody emo, whose anger management technique was to take a shower. _A frigging shower Sam? You're such a girl, _Dean used to say, resulting in the infamous bitch face. Dean smiled at the memory. He missed the bitch face. Hell, he missed his brother. Not like that was Sam's fault – as Dean had just clearly demonstrated (with a swift reminder from Bobby) Dean was the one being a complete "jerk," as Sam would call him. Sam was usually a talker when it came to his problems, but he hadn't shown the desire to talk about their father's death. Dean had at first taken that to mean Sam just didn't care, but of course that was a complete load of bull. Sam was hurting – not as much as Dean when it came to John, but adding Jess, the visions and that yellow-eyed freak into the equation, Sam's pain was equal to Dean's. So Dean had thought, why not blame him for everything and make him hurt. Reckless was the only way to describe that action. _Smooth move Dean, _his brain yelled at him when he saw Sam flinch after his inappropriate rant. When Bobby gave him a bollocking, he had to admit it was a mistake. He couldn't face Sam right now though, even when Bobby looked at him with that "you better fix that" look he always gave when he and Sam fell out… or when Sam and John fell out… or when Sam and Sam's head fell out… basically whenever Sam had a problem. He made the excuse to Bobby that he wasn't ready for the Sam talk, but really it was because he knew he wouldn't be able to handle the guilt when he saw Sam's sad, distressed puppy eyes. Man that kid could melt not only butter, but solid steel with that look. It killed Dean to see Sam like that, especially when he was the cause of that look, and right now Dean was too fragile to handle the guilt. _I'm sure Sam can handle another day moping, then I'll be sure to make amends. _Dean went back to working on his car. _One more day can't hurt…_


	3. Chapter 3

**Hi again! Next installment, as promised! Thanks again for all the reviews/additions, I got another 38 emails today, I am so happy, I didn't think this story would be that well liked! CHEESING! Lol! I was going to give more time to the build up, but then I thought it might have been too slow, so here comes the action XD hopefully you will all a bit happier with Dean soon, he won't be a bastard for long I promise :P**

**Enjoy! **

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><p><em>Sam lay down on his bed, exhaustion taking over. He could hear the water running in the adjoining bathroom, and grinned as he thought of his girlfriend. If he wasn't so tired after the hunt he would have been VERY tempted to join her in the shower. He scrunched his nose as he felt a cold drop landing on his face, followed by a few more. Aww crap, there better not be a leak from the flat above, Sam thought, and he had to force open his eyes to inspect the damage. However, what he saw above made him wish that it was just a simple leak. Jessica was pinned to the ceiling, her stomach sliced open and her blood dripping onto Sam's face. He gasped at the sight, too shocked to speak; within mere seconds she spontaneously combusted.<em>

"_Why, Sam?" Sam just managed to hear Jessica's voice over the roar of the flames that engulfed her._

"_Jess! NO!" he screamed, finally finding his voice. This could not be happening – he could not lose Jess, the love of his life, in exactly the same way that he lost his mother. He couldn't bear it. But how could he help? Even if he somehow managed to get her down from the ceiling, the fire was too ferocious; there was no way she could survive, he knew that much. His head was telling him to get out of the burning apartment, to save himself, but he just couldn't leave Jess. So he remained on the bed, frozen to the spot._

"_Sam! Come on!" a voice called to him. Someone then grabbed him and was pulling him out, but Sam resisted, wanting to stay with his beloved. "Sam!" the voice called again. He looked to his side and saw that the voice belonged to Dean. His brother had come back to save him, was risking his own life to get Sam out of the fire. It was too late for Jess, but even though Sam wanted to stay with her, to die with her, his brother needed him to live. The look in his eyes told him that. Thus, he allowed himself to be taken outside, to the safety of the Impala._

_Once outside, he could hear a commotion from concerned neighbours and the fire department; but after about a minute it became very quiet. Too quiet. Sam turned around to see that the apartment building was gone, and he was in some sort of shack. Dean, who had been standing next to him moments before, was now lying unconscious on the ground. He wanted to go to his brother, but found himself stuck to the spot by some unknown force. A loud cackle erupted from behind him and the responsible individual walked in front of Sam – it was John, possessed by the yellow-eyed demon. "Mommy and Daddy are dead Sammy boy. As is poor, dear Jessica. Give yourself to me now, or your precious Dean will end up the same way."_

"NO!" Sam yelled, almost falling out of bed. He spins his head around, to take in the surroundings. The shack had gone, replaced by the all too familiar walls of the room he had claimed in Bobby's house. Dean wasn't bleeding out on the floor, his demon-possessed dad wasn't around, and no Jessica burning on the ceiling. Another nightmare. Or at least he hoped so, considering the demon's threat on his brother's life.

Head now throbbing, Sam stood and made his way to the bathroom to splash his face with cold water. He felt unusually warm, considering the over-eager air conditioning unit happily spewing cold air throughout the room. Well, it was – just as Sam thought of the machine it gave an almighty cough and died all of a sudden. _Damn it! Just as that thing was proving useful, it's so hot in this house! _Sam thought to himself. He made his way back into the bedroom, and spotted a bowl sitting on the little coffee table outside the bathroom, with an open bottle of beer sitting next to it. "Seems Bobby brought dinner," he muttered to himself. He inspected the rather disgusting bowl of chilli and considered flushing it away, but the loud grumble that erupted from his stomach won over, so Sam grudgingly ate the whole bowl.

Once he had finished, he downed the now flat beer and made his way downstairs to clean up. It had turned dark outside, so he must have managed to sleep for a few hours. _A new record, _he thought. He heard muffled voices from Bobby's study, and much to Sam's relief Dean was one of them. It meant he could sneak into the kitchen without having to face another confrontation with his volatile sibling. He crept along the hallway and into the kitchen and cleaned the plate.

"Good sleep?" Bobby's voice called from behind. Sam jumped when he heard it – apparently he wasn't the only one who was proficient in creeping about.

"Not bad. Thanks for leaving this by the way; I was pretty hungry when I woke up."

"Glad to hear it, I haven't seen you eating enough these past few days!"

"I don't tend to eat much normally Bobby. It's just fuel to me; I'll only eat when I can't physically cope without it."

"That isn't very healthy you know."

"It works for me. On a different matter, that air con unit's packed in at last."

"Crap, I just bought that thing! I'll take a look at it tomorrow. Hey, you Ok?" At this point Sam's head felt worse and he had to close his eyes to try and relieve the pain. Bobby walked over and placed a hand on his shoulder.

"Ah! Yeah, its fine, just a headache. I think I'll grab a couple of pain killers and lie down again."

"Good idea can't have you getting sick. I thought at first you might have been having one of your visions."

"Nah, thankfully they have stopped for the time being. The demon must have other people to torment. I should really be doing some research; we need to keep track of it…"

"Woah, steady there! Get yourself to full fitness first, then worry about the demon. You won't be able to work effectively with a migraine. Now go, lie down again. Your exhaustion must be catching up with you."

"All right," Sam sighed. "I'll see you in the morning. Oh, and do you think you could turn your heating down a bit, it's roasting in here." Before Bobby could respond, Sam left the room and made his way upstairs. "I haven't got the heating on… if anything it's cold in here…" Bobby muttered to himself, his concern for the young Winchester ever increasing.

xxx

Dean's back ached. He had been working on the Impala for hours, and if he hadn't beaten it with a crowbar the other day it would have been almost fixed. As it turns out, it was merely a pile of smashed metal and glass moulded into the shape of a car. _This is gonna take forever! I should have beaten up one of Bobby's trucks instead of my baby, _he thought miserably. He looked at his watch – _20.28._ Conceding defeat, he retreated to the warmth of Bobby's house.

As he entered the kitchen, he saw Bobby serving two bowls of chilli. "Ah, Dean. I was just about to call you. Fancy some dinner?"

"Do you even have to ask?" Dean beamed. He was positively starving after all that work. As soon as he found a spoon, he shovelled the brown gloop into his mouth.

"Slow down boy, else you'll give yourself indigestion."

"Dean Winchester does not get indigestion," he spluttered, sending bits of meat and sauce flying across the table.

"You should. It'd serve you right for your appalling lack of table manners."

"Take it as a compliment!"

It only took Dean a couple of minutes to finish the whole bowl, plus 2 beers. He let loose a satisfied belch and leaned back in his chair. "Gotta hand it to you Bobby, you sure know how to make decent chilli!"

"Why thank you Dean. I'll show you how to make it sometime. Cooking is a lot of fun…"

"Oh I would love that Bobby… then later we could put on facemasks, do each other's hair and talk about how GORGEOUS Johnny Depp is looking right now." Dean put on the girliest high pitched voice he could manage just to taunt the older man for his love of cooking.

"Oh shut it. Else next time you can make your own damn dinner!"

"I was just messing with you! I really appreciate your cooking. And that cute floral apron you wear…" Dean managed to duck just in time as Bobby's fist flew across the table. Laughing, Dean got up, grabbed another beer from the fridge and made his way to the study to relax. Bobby just shook his head and followed the younger hunter out of the kitchen, making sure to take a bowl of chilli and a beer to Sam's room before heading to the study.

The two men talked for over an hour, mainly about cars. Dean needed a few parts to finish off the Impala and Bobby offered to call in a favour from a friend who worked on classic cars for a living. Just as the clock struck ten, there was a strange noise from upstairs, almost like a muffled yell. Both men looked at each other, silently wondering what it could be. The noise was followed by footsteps and the sound of running water.

"Sam must be awake," Bobby thought out loud. Dean just nodded. The two men continued their conversation from earlier, when they heard Sam coming downstairs.

"I'm just going to check on him," Bobby mumbled, making sure Sam couldn't hear him. "Won't be a minute." Again, Dean just nodded, and Bobby followed Sam into the kitchen. Dean could hear them talking but couldn't make out what they were saying. He let out a yawn. Man, he was tired.

He had almost drifted off in his seat when Bobby shook him. "If you're gonna fall asleep, maybe you should do it in your own bed. Oh, and take a shower first, you stink."

"Well you don't exactly smell like perfume store," Dean grumbled.

"It's my house, I can smell bad if I want. Now piss off!" Bobby's words did have a rather affectionate tone, so Dean knew he wasn't annoyed.

"Yeah whatever. Night grumpy!"

Bobby merely snorted back and made his own way to bed, in the little bedroom on the bottom floor; with his backaches in recent years, Bobby had given up on stairs.

xxx

Sam woke abruptly from yet another nightmare. This one was just about Jess burning on the ceiling – no taunting demon. But even though Sam was awake, he still felt the extreme heat from the fire. Although, there was no fire in Bobby's house. It was just how hot Sam felt. He turned to the clock on the bedside table – _02.02. _He groaned, and slowly got out of bed, needing to cool himself down. As he stood, there was a sharp pain in his left side where the metal shard had stabbed him earlier. He automatically placed his hand on the area, and was shocked as to how hot the skin felt – it made the rest of him seem cold. Just as he touched this area, his stomach rumbled, and a sudden wave of nausea hit him

"Shit," he groaned, and ran as fast as he could into the bathroom. Luckily, he made it to the toilet in enough time for his stomach to empty itself. He puked a rancid mixture of chilli, beer and bile for about half a minute, which felt like hours to Sam. When he had finished, he reached to pull the flush, when he was hit by another wave of nausea. He promptly sat back down and swallowed violently to keep the sick at bay. Unfortunately, he failed, and his head was back over the bowl as more vomit exited his body.

Over the next ten minutes, Sam had vomited five times. He was exhausted, very hot, and in a lot of pain. He sat with his right arm outstretched over the toilet and he rested the side of his head on top of it. His left arm hung by his hide, his hand lightly clutching his stomach. He knew he was probably getting very dehydrated and should take a drink of water, but he just could not move. He reckoned he wouldn't be able to keep the water down anyway. He couldn't understand what was making him so sick. How could he go from feeling almost fine, apart from a headache, to being violently ill with agonising cramps from his torso? In these situations, Dean would normally be at his side, knowing what was wrong and how to fix it. Dean would be rubbing his back, comforting him as he whimpered in pain, making him better. But Dean wasn't here this time. Dean wasn't talking to him, and was unlikely to notice this escapade, despite sleeping in the room next door. All Sam could do at this point was to sit in pain, praying he would get better soon.


	4. Chapter 4

**Back again guys! Chapter 4 finished and ready to go. Thanks again to everyone who read and reviewed my story, or added it to favourites. It's made me very happy! for those whose reviews I didn't respond to it's because I can't lol! But you're remarks are very much appreciated and I thank you for taking the time to read and review XD As a reward, I have updated very quickly! :D **

**Enjoy! Oh, and the Dean we know is returning, yay!  
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><p>Dean woke up due to a call of nature, most likely due to the beers he had consumed at dinner. <em>Darn it! For once, I was having a good sleep! <em>Dean groaned and got out of bed. He looked over to the clock – _02.33. _Too early for breakfast, so Dean would have to try and fall asleep again, something he was never brilliant at doing.

Once he had taken care of business, he crept back to his own room. As he tip-toed past Sam's room, he heard a strange noise almost like a whimper. _Kid must be having a nightmare, _Dean thought. He wondered whether or not he should go in and wake him up. Once he's awake, Dean figured it may have been a good time for his long overdue apology. So what if it's the middle of the night? Besides, a talk would certainly take Sam's mind off of his nightmare, which he assumed were extremely horrific and terrifying. Not like Sam would ever talk about them. Dean quietly turned the door handle and entered Sam's room. He walked over to the bed and stretched his arm out to shake him awake. To his surprise, his hand hit the mattress. The Sasquatch brother was nowhere to be seen. Dean heard another whimper, and realised it was coming from the bathroom.

"Sam?" he questioned, walking towards the tiny room. He flicked the switch and pushed the door open, and was instantly hit with the foul stench of vomit. He scrunched his face and took a hitched breath at the smell, but quickly returned to normal when his mind clicked to the one worrying thought – Sam was sick. His eyes were drawn to the slumped form of his baby brother, head positioned over the toilet. Sam's own eyes were closed tightly and he was breathing deeply. It appeared that he hadn't notice Dean's entrance. Dean crouched down next to his brother and placed a hand on his arm. He was astonished at the heat radiating off his skin.

"Sammy? Can you hear me?" his brother was unresponsive at his touch and he wondered if he had passed out. Fortunately, Sam gradually opened his eyes and glared at Dean.

"N?" he moaned – Sam's sick talk for _Dean._

"Yeah buddy. How you feeling? Here let's get rid of that mess." Dean stretched over his sibling and flushed the toilet.

"S'k." Sam mumbled through clenched teeth, struggling with yet another wave of nausea.

Dean nodded and placed the palm of his hand on Sam's forehead. The fever was worrying enough, but the fact that Sam leaned into Dean's touch was even more concerning. These days, whenever Dean tried to help Sam after an injury or when he was ill, he would resist, thinking he could handle it himself. He would only let Dean touch him when he was really sick or badly hurt, and that was rare.

"Yeah, and you have a really bad fever. I'm gonna need to cool you down. Just wait a minute and I'll get Bobby to help out." Dean was about to get up when Sam whimpered again, meaning that he didn't want Dean to leave him. Another worrying sign. Dean thought for a moment and then an idea hit him. He saw Sam's cell on the coffee table next to the bathroom door, so he quickly crawled over and grabbed it, returning to Sam's side within seconds. He opened the phone and dialled Bobby's number.

After a few rings, Bobby answered. "Singer," he yawned.

"Hey Bobby, it's Dean."

"What? Couldn't you just come downstairs?"

"I would have, but Sam's sick and I don't want to leave him alone. Listen, he has a really high fever. Could you bring me a wash cloth and a bucket of ice water?"

"Right." Bobby answered instantly and hung up. Dean then heard movement from downstairs and knew Bobby was getting to work.

"Ok Sam, I need to try and figure out what's making you sick. I doubt it's food poisoning as Bobby and I ate the chilli and we're Ok." Dean thought for a moment, and then an idea hit him. "Hey, when you fell earlier today, did you injure yourself?" Sam nodded and pointed to his side.

"Cl'n th." Dean translated that is _I cleaned the wound though._

"I'm just gonna take a look at it anyway Ok?" Dean slowly lifted his brother's shirt and saw immediately where the metal had cut into his side. There was a dark crust of blood surrounded by swollen, red and hot skin. He gently touched the site and green puss oozed from the cut. Sam let out a cry of pain, but the motion caused him to vomit again. Dean immediately removed his hand from the cut and rubbed Sam's back.

"It's Ok, relax. Sorry about that. I'm afraid that cut is infected. We're gonna need to get you to a doctor."

"An infection? Crap!" Dean heard Bobby shout from behind him.

"Yeah, it looks bad. I'll get him cooler then we can drive him to the hospital. Thanks," he took the washcloth and bucket from Bobby and soaked the cloth in the cool water. He placed it on the back of Sam's neck as the young hunter coughed and spat into the toilet. Dean gently pushed Sam back to an upright position when he was finished being sick, and wiped the cloth over his head. He then cleaned his brother's face which had been sprayed with flecks of vomit. He dunked the cloth back in the ice water and continued to wash Sam's face and upper body, trying to remove some of the heat.

"Ok, we'll take this with us on the way to hospital. Do you want to try taking some water? You must be getting dehydrated by now. When did you start being sick?" Sam held up 2 fingers. "Be about 45 minutes now. You definitely need some water. Hey Bobby could you –"

"Brought up a glass anyway," Bobby handed Dean a glass of water. Dean muttered a thanks, and then put the glass in Sam's shaky hand. He helped him raise the glass to his mouth and Sam took a few tentative sips. A couple of minutes went by and he had managed to keep the liquid down.

"Good work Sammy. Now let's try and stand you up. We should go asap. Don't worry I'll help." Dean stood up from a sitting position and placed his hands under his brother's arms.

"Ok Sam, on the count of three, stand. One… Two… Three!" Dean lifted as Sam pushed himself off the ground. But the movement left Sam in an extreme amount of pain, and he felt sick again.

"It's Ok Sam, just breathe. Let's get you out of here." Sam wasn't moving though. He was shaking his head and trying to move, but Dean kept him still.

"Hey, calm down. Keep still. What is it?" Sam was groaning and frantically trying to move. Bobby suddenly clicked, "Dean! Move him back quick!"

"Huh? What do you –" Too late. Sam opened his mouth and threw up all over himself – and Dean. The surprise caused Dean to let go of his brother, and Sam fell back to the floor, still vomiting everywhere.

"Shit! Sam I'm sorry, are you Ok?" Dean was back down at his brother's side and held him, rubbing his back. By now Sam was in utter agony, and tears were streaming down his face. He gave another few whimpers.

"It's Ok, shhh. Let's not do that again. Bobby, I think we might need an ambulance, Sam can't be moved easily. Can you call for one? And maybe bring us a couple of clean shirts?"

"Sure Dean." Bobby left the brothers alone while he called 911. Dean continued to hold Sam until he finally calmed down. He pulled back and looked up at Dean with wet, puppy eyes.

"S'ry," he groaned. "Tried to move."

Dean let out a sympathetic laugh. "Forget about it Sam, it can't be helped, it was my fault. And let's face it, I totally deserved it!" Sam just looked at him blankly. _How did you deserve it? _The look said.

Dean understood. "I was well out of line earlier. Upset or not, I had no right to talk to you like that. I honestly didn't mean a word of it, I just wanted to hurt you. Stupid I know. I was a complete bastard, and I think being puked on is a mild punishment. I'm sorry. Can you forgive me?" He half expected Sam to get annoyed and shake his head. He didn't deserve Sam's forgiveness, what he did was unacceptable. But to his surprise, Sam gave him a small smile and nodded.

"Thought you hated me," he whispered.

"No! Of course I don't! I'm so sorry I made you think that. I –" His apology was stopped as Sam screamed. Not just groaned in pain – he literally screamed. He wrapped his arms around his middle and fresh tears made their way down his face.

"D'n!" he cried out automatically. _Dean, help!_

"Sam! What is it?" Dean once again had a firm hold on his brother, trying to keep him calm.

"H'rts…" Sam groaned. _Cramps._ His side was getting worse.

"I know, just hang in there. There's an ambulance on the way, you'll be all right. Deep breaths now; come on, breath with me. In…. out….. in … out….. that's it….. in …..out…." Dean could feel Sam's tension subsiding as the two brothers took deep breaths together.

"What's happening? Is everything all right?" Bobby ran into the room when he heard Sam screaming.

"We're good here Bobby, Sam just got a cramp, he's Ok." Dean wasn't sure which of the three men he was trying to reassure. He knew the infection must be serious and the longer Sam went without antibiotics, the worse he would get. Sepsis could set in any second now, and that's what petrified Dean. He couldn't voice his fears though, as Dean panicking would make Sam panic, and that wasn't what Sam needed. _Like I have noticed Sam's needs lately. If I hadn't been such a selfish prick in the first place, I could have had that wound disinfected much sooner, before infection could set in._

"Well the ambulance should be here in a few minutes. I gotcha some clean clothes." He handed Dean a couple of clean shirts.

"Sam, you good? Shall we get you into a new shirt? Never know, there might be a hot paramedic, need to look nice for her!" Dean smiled down at his brother, hoping that humour will settle his nerves. Sam glanced back at Dean and nodded. Dean carefully leaned his brother back against the bath. He reached for the washcloth and cleaned Sam's face again, before helping him out of his soiled shirt.

"Arms up Sammy!" Sam gradually lifted up his arms and Dean slipped the sweat drenched, vomit covered item over his head. Bobby noted how expertly Dean dressed his brother – then again, Dean had practically raised the boy ever since the day Mary died. John was a good man and he doted on his sons, but he wasn't the most attentive of fathers, particularly towards Sam. Nothing personal towards his youngest, but sometimes John would prioritise revenge over parenting.

"All done! I think I'll quickly change myself!" Dean was pretending to be chirpy and talking to Sam like he was a small child, as it seemed to help comfort Sam whenever he was sick. Dean threw his own soiled shirt into the sink along with Sam's, and slid on the replacement. Bobby had also brought him a pair of jeans to change into, so he cleaned Sam's vomit from his leg and slipped on the jeans.

"Wonderful!" Dean exclaimed. He returned to his little brother's side. "How you doing there, kiddo?"

Sam shook his head. _I feel like Hell._

Again, Dean understood. "Don't worry, the paramedics will be here soon. In fact… I think I hear sirens." Sure enough, there was the faint sound of sirens in the distance. Bobby was amazed at Dean's hearing abilities. He reckoned it must have happened as he developed as a hunter.

"I'll go and meet then and show them in," said Bobby. "Dean, stay here and take care of him."

"Planning to," replied Dean. As Bobby left to greet the paramedics, Dean slung his arm around Sam's shoulders and rubbed his hand up and down the arm. Sam's head flopped over onto Dean's shoulder. He was trembling and sobbing in pain. But he felt a sense of relief that Dean was there. He even began to believe that Dean didn't really mean the harsh words from before, but a part of him still wondered if Dean's apology was genuine. Yet here he was, comforting him through the pain. _He has to be genuine. I couldn't handle it otherwise._ As he thought, he failed to notice that he was idly pawing at his brother, as though convincing himself that Dean really was there. I'll make it up to you, I swear."

Dean heard footsteps coming up the stairs. "They're in there, in the en-suite," he heard Bobby say, concern apparent in his voice. Dean had never really appreciated before how much he and Sam meant to the old guy, and how well he took care of them, now and when their father couldn't. He would have to thank Bobby for that, but right now Sammy's health was his number one priority.

"Hi boys," a pretty young paramedic walked into the room.

"Hey Sam, told you!" Dean nudged his brother.

The woman looked confused, but shook off Dean's comment and crouched in front of Sam.

"You must be Sam. My name is Suzie. Can you tell me how you're feeling?"

"S'k, cr'mps." Sam muttered. Suzie didn't understand so looked at Dean.

"He's been sick several times and has cramps. I think he has an infected cut in his side."

"Ok, can I take a look?" Dean moved out of her way while still maintaining some contact with Sam. Suzie cautiously lifted Sam's shirt and felt the wound. Sam moaned and gagged in response, but managed not to throw up on her.

"He must like you, he puked all over me when I tried that," Dean joked. Sam just glared, attempting the bitch face.

"When was he last sick?" She asked Dean, ignoring his comment.

"Whenever Bobby called the ambulance; maybe about 15 minutes ago?"

"Ok. I'm just going to take your temperature Sammy."

"S'm." Sam stated in response. Again, Suzie looked to Dean for an explanation.

Dean chuckled. "He doesn't like to be called Sammy. 'Fraid only I get the privilege of that nickname. Don't be offended, it's an automatic response."

"Right, sorry Sam." Bewildered at the man's offense at a name, she inserted the thermometer into Sam's ear. Once it beeped, she looked at the screen.

"Damn, 103. We better get him to hospital now. Dominic! Graham! Bring in the stretcher! Ok Sam, your brother and I are going to move you onto the stretcher, then you just lie down and relax. My colleagues will carry you outside to the ambulance. You Ok to do that Dean?"

"Definitely. Can I ride with him in the ambulance?"

"Of course, but I'm afraid your friend Bobby will need to follow behind in a car, we can't afford to crowd the van."

"No worries, I'll follow." Bobby stated. The other two paramedics had placed the stretcher onto the bathroom floor next to Sam, and Dean helped him to move onto it. Suzie didn't have to do much, but she offered support if it was required. Once Sam was settled onto the stretcher, the two men raised him from the floor and quickly but carefully took him to the ambulance. Dean never once let go of his brother's hand and walked outside. As Suzie prepared to leave, she spotted the bucket of ice water on the floor with the washcloth dangling on the edge. Thinking it could be useful and it would give a clearly worried Dean something to do, she picked it up along with her case and ran after the men.

After loading Sam into the back of the ambulance, Graham hurried to the front, turned on the siren and pulled out of Bobby's scrap yard. Bobby was already waiting in his own car and hastily followed the ambulance. Meanwhile, Suzie had gotten Dean to cool Sam down with the cool water while she and Dominic took his vitals.

"His blood pressure is very low, I don't like the look of this," she muttered to her colleague. "Hey Dean, do you think we can take Sam's shirt off, so I can listen to his heart?"

"Sure," he replied and gently pulled the shirt off of his now dazed brother. Suzie was immediately drawn to a peculiar rash that had developed on his torso.

"How long has he had that rash?" Confused, Dean looked down at his brother's skin.

"That's weird," he exclaimed. "When he was last sick he threw up all over himself so I helped him change. I looked over his body just to make sure he had no other injuries, and the rash definitely wasn't there before."

Suzie looked at Dominic, who nodded in agreement. "Shit!" they both yelled. "Graham! Floor it!" Suzie rummaged through her bag and pulled out a syringe.

"Can someone tell me what's going on? What's with the rash? What's in the syringe?" Dean questioned, panic finally taking over. If the paramedics were worried, then Dean was terrified.

"It's penicillin," Suzie responded as she injected the liquid into a vein on Sam's arm. "I may be wrong, but I think he's septic."


	5. Chapter 5

**Hello again folks! Another massive thank you to everyone has reviewed and added (and a special shout out to supernaturalrenegade for the kind private messages!), you guys really help to improve my confidence! I was a bit slower at updating this chapter having been out all of yesterday so for those who enjoy nightly updates I can only apologise, but I hope this chapter was worth the wait! I used the nurse in this chapter to try and explain Sam's situation medically as some asked about sepsis, so here is what I know. I find this sort of thing fascinating so I had to share lol! Besides, Bobby and Dean are not doctors so they need to be informed :P**

**Hope you enjoy this chapter! I might not need too many more chapters, so I may have this finished by next week. Thus, if anyone has a request for a Sam whumpage story I could start another after this one :)**

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><p>Dean could have sworn his heart stopped when he heard those words. He got there too late, Sam had sepsis.<p>

"No… no, he can't…. dammit! He can't! He can't die!" Dean had started screaming at the paramedics and was on the verge of tears. After everything, he couldn't lose Sam, not like this, not so soon after their father.

Dean's panic had an effect on Sam. Seeing Dean upset made him upset, and he closed his eyes. He hadn't really heard what was going on, but he could work out there was something seriously wrong with him. Tears made their way down his cheeks as he tried to clear his fogged mind. He was getting dizzy and was near passing out, but he was forcing himself to stay awake. He had to reassure Dean.

"Dean, calm down. I know this is hard, but Sam's still here and he needs you to stay strong for him. We are doing everything we can for him, and I know the doctors will too. Dominic is already calling ahead to the hospital so that they are ready for him. You can't lose it now. Do you understand?" Suzie had spoken to him in a blunt, almost harsh tone. _Can't she see Sammy is seriously ill? He could die! And she expects me to be calm!_

Seeing Dean wasn't ready to calm down, she stood up and faced him. "Dean, listen to me. Don't give up on him, he seems strong, I know he'll fight this. He won't want to leave you; I can see it in his face. Please, sit with him; he needs you to be there for him. Even if inside you are terrified, you have to be strong for your little brother, just like you were earlier. You can do this." She placed a comforting hand on his shoulder, and Dean finally started to control himself. She was right; Sam needed him to be calm, even if he didn't feel it. Slowly, he sat back down behind his brother's head and grasped Sam's right hand. He used his other hand to stroke his sweat drenched hair, and started to mumble comforting words into Sam's ear. Although Suzie couldn't hear what Dean was saying, she could see the tension leaving the younger sibling. She hoped, for both their sakes, that Sam would pull through.

xxx

The ambulance pulled up in front of the hospital, where a group of doctors and nurses were waiting for the fallen Winchester. Graham exited the front of the vehicle and sprinted to the back, opening the doors to allow Dominic and Suzie to manoeuvre the trolley out of the van. A frantic Dean followed them out, still clinging onto Sam's hand, afraid that if he let go Sam would die there and then. He ran with them and they rushed him into the ICU. Dean was suddenly pulled away from Sam by a rather burly looking male nurse.

"Hey! What's the big idea? I want to be with me brother!"

"I'm sorry son, I can't allow it. The doctors need to remove the poison from his wound and give him fluids and antibiotics. The first few hours are crucial here. Once they are finished you are welcome to sit with him of course, but you have to let them do their work. We also need to run cultures to determine what bacterium is causing the infection so we can give Sam a more specific treatment. Come on, I'll take you to the waiting room, you can fill out the insurance details. You've done everything you can for him, I'm afraid all you can do now is wait and pray he gets through this."

"He'll be scared, he doesn't like hospitals. You bring me back here as soon as they're done, understand? He needs me…"

"Of course. Come on." The nurse practically had to drag Dean through to the waiting room, where an almost equally as frantic Bobby was waiting.

"Dean! What's happening?" He could see the fear clearly written on Dean's face. Something was very wrong with Sam.

"Sepsis." Dean whispered. He started to wobble and his legs began to give way under him. Luckily, Bobby caught him.

"Easy Dean," he took Dean over to a chair and wrapped an arm around his shoulder to keep him steady.

"It's my fault. What if he dies Bobby? I failed him. He needed me, but I was too wrapped up in my own shit to notice."

"It's not your fault Dean. I mean, I was watching out for him and even I fail to spot how sick he was. He complained about feeling hot and I just let him go, thinking he was just tired and would be better in the morning. I knew about the cut on his side, but he told me he cleaned it – I assumed he had disinfected it properly, I didn't even bother to check. If you must blame someone, blame me."

Dean looked astounded. He couldn't believe that Bobby was taking the blame for his failures. It wasn't Bobby's job to look out for Sam, it was Dean's. _Protect Sam. _That was his one task in life, his main purpose. _Kill the bad guy, but take care of Sammy first._ Taking care of Sam was the one thing he had neglected over these past few days.

"How can I blame you Bobby? You've been looking out for us, not only since dad… since we were born. It's my job to protect Sam and I failed him. I've been too busy wallowing in self-pity and torturing the kid's already fragile mind. If dad were here now, he'd kill me. Or at least stick a rather large size 12 up my ass!"

"You say you can't blame me for what happened? Then you can't go blaming yourself. If I couldn't see it when paying attention to him then what chance did you have? He wasn't going to let us know he was sick until we couldn't help finding out. Frankly if you hadn't woken up when you did we might never have found him until it was too late."

"I know Sam, I can tell when he is hiding an illness. I should have seen it. I should have…" Dean shook his head, frustrated at himself for being so ignorant these past few days.

Time seemed to go by at an impossibly slow pace. Bobby had taken charge filling out the insurance forms – luckily, the doctor in charge of Sam, Dr Summers, knew Bobby well and often cared for injured hunters. He knew Sam didn't have any medical insurance, and since Dr Summers was incredibly wealthy – and discrete – he allowed Bobby to use his personal details and he would repay the money at a later date. He owed Bobby after the hunter saved him from a vengeful spirit of a disgruntled patient from the 1800s, who had been slaughtering doctors for three centuries. Frankly, paying the insurance of someone so close to his dear friend was the least he could do.

Dean had been pacing around the waiting room as Bobby took care of business. Then, for the first time since his mother passed, Dean prayed. Prayed that Sammy would be Ok; that he could make amends; atone for his sins towards his baby brother, his most precious belonging. Yes, belonging – Sam was his. It was an understanding that both John and Bobby shared – they could care for Sam, but he ultimately belonged to Dean, just as Dean belonged to Sam. It may seem creepy and possessive to some, but it was just a way of life for the pair. Now, they were each the only true family the other had.

"Dean? Hey, you can come see Sam now," the male nurse from earlier called from the doorway. Without a second though, Dean ran to the man ready to follow, and motioned Bobby to come as well. Even though he would never admit it, he needed Bobby there.

The two hunters followed the nurse into an individual ward in the ICU. Both could have collapsed at the sight. Sam was hooked to two IV tubes – one for antibiotics and the other for fluids. He had an oxygen mask covering his mouth, which the nurse explained was needed to ensure enough oxygen was reaching the brain as his heart was not pumping blood fast enough. He was extremely pale and had fallen into a state of unconsciousness – Dean had to be assured that this was just from the exhaustion from his ordeal. The only real visible proof that Sam was still alive was the regular beat of the heart monitor. Dean moved towards the bed, where a seat had been conveniently placed. The nurse knew from meeting Dean earlier that he would be sitting vigil at Sam's bedside from now until his (hopeful) discharge. The nurse had to believe that every patient would get out alive so that he did not appear worried in front of a frightened family.

"We're waiting on the results from blood cultures and wound swabs. The lab will carry out an initial diagnostic test called a Gram stain which will give us a rough idea what family of organism we are dealing week and we should have that result in a few hours, but a precise blood culture could take weeks. Skin infections are usually caused by _Staphylococcus _or _Streptococcus _bacteria, and most strains are still resistant to penicillin, so we have included that in a cocktail of antibiotics in this IV. However, when cleaning the wound we found that the piece of metal that had stabbed him had not fallen out as you said the boy suggested, but had in fact been forced all the way through the skin into the deep tissue. Bacteria had colonized around the tissue and cause substantial tissue death. Eventually, the bacteria entered the blood stream, leading to an overly active immune response. The presence of the toxic chemicals from the immune system to produce the inflammatory response, plus the blood-borne bacteria are what lead to sepsis and toxic shock. The quick thinking paramedics gave him a large dose of penicillin and we are confident that this may have slowed down any further spread, but as I said before, the first few hours are crucial and his condition will have to be monitored very closely. Unfortunately, rusty metal leads to a risk of other potential infections like tetanus. We have given him a booster of the tetanus vaccine, as I believe he has already been vaccinated; therefore we aren't too worried about the risk of that particular infection. Unfortunately, there are even risks with the antibiotics, as too many can cause unpleasant and dangerous side effects, including organ failure, so we had to keep the doses fairly low, yet high enough to be effective. He is in a very delicate state right now, but try not to worry too much. We have done all we can, and it's now up to Sam to get better. I'd love to leave you alone, but I'm afraid someone has to keep watch at all times, so I must stay."

"We understand. Thank you sir." Bobby shook the nurse's hand in gratitude.

"Call me Charles."

"All right. Tell us honestly Charles. How do you rate his chances?"

"Honestly? I can't say. Sepsis is a severe condition with a high mortality rate, and the infection became systemic very quickly in Sam, suggesting his immune system is compromised. Has he suffered any sort of trauma, or does he have an autoimmune disease? He also appears slightly malnourished."

"The boys were in a car crash just under a week ago. They lost their father in the crash, and Dean was seriously hurt. Sam had gotten off lightly in comparison. As for being malnourished, I'm not too surprised. He hardly eats normally, and has only eaten one meal since the crash. I try to get him to eat, but you can't really force a 23 year old to do anything."

"That would explain it. Even if his injuries weren't wholly serious, any sort of trauma can have an effect on the immune system. Malnourishment also weakens the immune system. The fact that he has slightly compromised immunity meant that the infection could spread rapidly and his body isn't fighting as well as it should. However, the fact that sepsis has developed shows that it is still working efficiently. There is still an inflammatory response, which as I explained before is the cause of sepsis. Oddly enough, that may be a good sign. A very compromised immune system can lower the effectiveness of antibiotics, so the fact that Sam's is still functioning to an extent means that his chances are higher. The immune system is very complex and we don't really understand it fully, so remember that this is only a theory, I may be wrong. But we can't give up on Sam. We have to believe his chances are favourable. Some patients will not have made it by now, so this is a very good sign. Stay positive."

"I guess it's all we can do." Bobby looked over at the two brothers. Dean hadn't listened to the nurse at all, his whole attention devoted to Sam. It was as though if Dean stared at him hard enough, he would wake up and be completely cured.

scratch, so I know you ain't just about to let some puny bacteria defeat you."

Yet Sam refused to open his eyes.

"Any particular reason why my brother is still asleep Lurch?"

"Dean! Manners!" Bobby scolded.

"It's quite all right, I've had worse. He's just exhausted Dean, he needs time. All of the energy he has left is being utilised to fight off the infection."

So Dean and Bobby waited. It took two whole hours until Sam's eyes fluttered open. Instantly, he searched for Dean, who hadn't moved from his position beside the bed. His older brother had dozed, so Sam tried to call his name. However, he found that his mouth had been covered with something. He attempted to remove the object, but his arms felt heavy. Feeling totally helpless, he groaned as loudly as he could and gently elbowed Dean.

"Huwazza… Sam? You awake?" Dean asked groggily, mentally kicking himself for his little nap.

His little brother nodded and motioned towards the oxygen mask.

"Hey nurse boy, is it all right to remove the face mask? He wants rid of it."

Charles walked over to the bed. "It should be Ok for a while. His lungs are still functioning so it isn't a necessity." The nurse carefully removed the gas mask from the face of the young Winchester.

"Th'nks." Sam mumbled.

"Hey bro, how are you feeling?"

Sam just groaned in response.

"You feeling sick again?" Sam nodded. Dean immediately helped Sam to sit up and Charles quickly thrust a bowl in Sam's hand. Sam held the bowl so tightly his knuckles turned white, and he was breathing deeply through clenched teeth. He really didn't want to be sick again.

"Don't fight it Sam, you can't keep that crap inside. Just let it go." He positioned himself on the bed next to Sam, using one hand to rub his back while using the other to hold Sam's arm to help if he needed to move the bowl

Sam still tried to keep the nausea at bay, and to begin with it worked. He opened his eyes, but was struck with an agonising stomach cramp, causing him to lurch forward. He dropped the sick bowl, but luckily Dean caught it and held it under his face just as he threw up.

When he finished, Charles took the bowl from Dean's hand and left the room to dispose of the vomit. Bobby brought a glass of water over and Dean made Sam take a couple of sips. Dean took the washcloth he had earlier out of his pocket (he had thrust it in there when leaving the ambulance) and wiped Sam's mouth before laying him back down on the bed.

"Why st'll s'k?" _Why am I still being sick?_

"It's the infection son," Bobby replied. "Hopefully the antibiotics should kick in soon."

Sam nodded and began to close his eyes. "Sl'py." He muttered.

"Just hang on for a bit longer Sam. When nurse Frankenstein returns he'll want to check you out." But Sam had passed out.

Dean gave a sympathetic chuckle, when he was struck by an eerie silence.

"Bobby, why is Sam's heart monitor not making a noise?" The two men looked at the machine to see that it was no longer measuring his pulse. At that moment, Charles walked back into the room.

"Hey Charles, is this machine broken?" Bobby asked. Charles took one look at the ECG and pressed the call button. He yanked the pillows from beneath Sam so that he was lying flat and opened his shirt. He replaced the oxygen mask just as several doctors and nurses ran into the room. "We need a crash cart in here!" Charles yelled. Bobby and Dean were pushed out of the door by two female nurses.

"What the Hell is going on?" Dean cried. "Why do you need a crash cart?"

"I'm sorry sir, but your brother's heart has stopped. We need to start it again."


	6. Chapter 6

**Hi friends! I was a bit evil last chapter with that ending I must say, but I couldn't resist. :D But I confess, this isn't a death fic so we're OK! Thanks again for everyones reviews and adds, it's been swell! XD**

This is just a little chapter in comparison to the others, but chapter 7 is already on the way so it's all good :)

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><p>The nurse ran back into Sam's room and slammed the door. Bobby was in too much shock to notice Dean fall back against the wall and slide to the floor. It finally hit the two men just how serious Sam's condition was. Dean was rocking back and forth, mumbling "no" over and over again. Bobby was staring through the small glass panel on the door as his friend Dr Matthews used the defibrillator to try and shock Sam's heart back into action. There was a lot of commotion in the room and Bobby tried to figure out what they were saying, but the room was well sound proofed.<p>

"Please let him be Ok," Bobby said out loud.

"Ok? Bobby his frigging heart just stopped!"

"I know Dean, but that doesn't mean they can't start it again. He still has a chance…"

"Face it Bobby, it's hopeless. He's going to die, from a stupid infection! After everything we've been through! If you exist God you are a bastard!" Dean started to scream at the ceiling, tears streaming down his face. Bobby felt like crying too, but Dean was a mess and one of them had to be strong right now. So he sat down next to the broken man and wrapped an arm around him. "You can't give up Dean. He's going to be fine, I just know it."

xxx

Ten minutes passed, which to Bobby felt like months. Dean was sobbing next to him, convinced that Sam was gone. But Bobby refused to believe that the boy he classed as his own son was dead.

Just then, Charles walked out of the room and Bobby stood, dragging a distraught Dean to his feet. He looked at the nurse, silently asking for the verdict.

"It's good news. We were able to stabilise him. Unfortunately he is still quite poorly. We think the infection may have reached his lungs as his breathing is weak. We intubated him so that should keep the oxygen flowing. The doctor is trying to figure out what caused the heart to stop. You can come in, Dr Matthews is with him."

Dean and Bobby both let out a shaky sigh of relief. Sam wasn't dead, he was Ok. Dean wiped his eyes and ran to his brother's side. Bobby nodded a thanks to the nurse and followed Dean into the room. Dean was hugging Sam's unconscious body, thanking him for not dying.

"He sure is strong," Dr Matthews told them. "I wouldn't expect anything less from a hunter. You lot don't give up without a fight."

"Damn right we don't!" exclaimed a relieved Bobby. "So tell me straight Frank, how is he?"

"He's still pretty sick. As far as I can tell, the infection has spread to his lungs, which explains the lack of oxygen. Sepsis weakened the heart, but the inflammatory response of the immune system has caused a fluctuation in blood pressure. Initially his blood pressure would have been high, but then it has lowered to a dangerously low level. Sadly, this put a lot of stress on his heart and it could no longer handle the pressure, so it stopped working. We were able to start it up again, and now we have enough oxygen flowing around the body and the stress on his heart is reduced. Sepsis often causes organ failure, but Sam's organs are still just functioning. The damage to his lungs should be reversible and if we successfully clear the infection he should make a full recovery. But we are still in the 'golden hours' of infection as it were, so I can't say for sure how it's going to go."

"Are any of his other organs affected?"

"We don't think so. We took blood and urine samples to check renal functions as the two most commonly affected organs during sepsis are the lungs and kidneys. But his urine looks normal so if I had to make an educated guess I say that they were functioning well for now."

Bobby nodded, still bemused at the events of the last 15 minutes.

This time, Dean had listened to the medical information. He needed to know what exactly was wrong was his brother. He finally spoke up. "What can we expect in the next few hours?"

The doctor and Bobby were shocked to hear Dean's voice, but the doctor replied. "I can't say. Hopefully the antibiotics will have a chance to clear the worst of the infection and Sam will be out of the danger zone. Worst case scenario – he will have multiple organ failure, which would be fatal. I wish I could give you an estimate of his chances, but it varies between patients, and it also depends how far sepsis had set in before he was first given a dose of penicillin."

"So we just have to hope he gets better?"

"I'm sorry Dean, but we've done all we can here. As we have explained before, it is up to Sam. We can help if things go wrong, but ultimately he has to fight this."

"Thanks doc," Dean returned his attention to his brother, mumbling quietly into Sam's ear. Bobby couldn't hear what Dean said, but guessed Dean was begging him to wake up and be Ok. Frankly, Bobby shared the same wishes as Dean.

xxx

The next few days were much the same as the ones that preceded them. Sam had yet to wake him from his coma-like condition, and Dean rarely left his side. Bobby returned home every so often to wash and bring food for the two of them. Dean would only leave Sam to use the lavatory or wash in the tiny bathroom attached to Sam's ward, and only when Bobby was there to keep an eye on his brother. There was always a doctor or nurse supervising Sam, but Dean wanted someone he could trust there at all times, and only he or Bobby fit that description. He wasn't questioning the abilities of the medical professionals – he just wanted to make sure Sam had someone he was close to around when he woke up. Dean had developed a habit of talking to Sam about anything and everything, as there was a slight chance Sam could hear what was going on around him. The results of the Gram stain test had confirmed that the organism responsible for infection was in the _Staphylococcus _family. That had sparked major concerns for Dean as he had read a lot about MRSA in the news. He had heard about a drug called vancomycin that is used to treat MRSA and asked Dr Matthews to give it to Sam, but the doctor explained that it is only a last resort treatment for bacterial infections if all other antibiotics failed, and he didn't want to risk Sam developing a resistance, leaving him defenseless. Dean became more worried as the days went by.

It had been five days since Sam had first fallen ill. At around 3pm, Bobby had gone home to shower and find dinner for himself and Dean. Charles was sitting in the corner of Sam's room, reading a magazine. This was technically his day off, but the hospital was too busy to allow an on duty nurse or doctor to sit with Sam, so he volunteered to stay. He had grown fond of the bizarre trio, and was amused by Dean's ever increasing repertoire of nicknames to insult his size. Even though he had to monitor Sam's condition, he tried to give the brothers enough personal space and attempted to block out Dean's words, whilst still listening to the machines around the youngest. Dean, meanwhile, tried his best to ignore Charles. He would never admit it, but he had great respect for the man, and the insults were Dean's way of showing affection. He was relieved that Charles took it all in good humour. But right now, Sam needed his full attention, so he blocked out the nurse's presence. He had spent most of the day reminiscing about their childhood, telling Sam stories of what he was like as a toddler. The lack of response from Sam made Dean more and more agitated. Dean grasped Sam's hand and leaned into his face.

"Come on Sam, wake up. I mean I know I've spent many years calling you Princess, but did you have to turn into Sleeping Beauty?" He laughed, and prayed that Sam would playfully punch him and put on the bitch face. But there was nothing.

Dean turned serious. "Please Sam. I don't know how much more of this I can take. I can't do this without you man. You were right – I'm not Ok. I miss Dad so much, but I know you do too. Let's face it, you're always right, college boy. If you think the two of us need to talk about it, then we will. I promise. But how can we if you won't wake up? I miss you kid. I can't lose you as well. You're the only thing that's keeping me going. What am I gonna do if I lose you? You can't die…" Dean choked on the lump forming in his throat and just managed to stop the tears coming. If Sam could hear him, he was not going to cry. He would talk about things, but he would never cry. Not in front of Sam. He always had to be the strong one, and he was not going to lose it now. As Dean composed himself, he felt a gentle pressure on his hand – the hand holding Sam's.


	7. Chapter 7

**Hey folks! Last chapter I caused someone offense by using the word faggot, so I have changed that bit to just gay. I hope this puts people's mind at ease. I'm not a homophobe - in fact I find homophobics offensive - and I was purely trying to highlight the prejudice many male nurses face without detracting too much from the story. I'll get chapter 8 sorted now and I do not wish to cause further offense. **

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><p>"Sam? Did you just do that? Can you hear me? Squeeze my hand if you can." Sure enough, Sam's fingers lightly wrapped themselves around Dean's and there was a very slight pressure. Many would not have noticed, but Dean saw it.<p>

"That's it Sam! Now time for the rest of you! Can you open your eyes? Squeeze once for yes, twice for no." Two squeezes.

"Ok, but please try. Does your side still hurt?" One squeeze.

"I'll get Iron Man to take a look at you." Charles was already at Sam's side – he got up as soon as Dean spotted the Sam moving.

Charles got to work on his usual poking and prodding of Sam (as Dean saw it), making notes on the clip board the doctors and nurses always carried. "Ok I'll get Dr Matthews to take a look."

Charles took out his pager and sent a message to Dr Matthews. It only took the doctor a couple of minutes to arrive.

"Hey Dean, I hear Sam is responding to you."

"Yeah, he can hear me and he can move his hand, but that's all he can manage."

"Well he's doing very well to manage that. This is a very good sign Dean. Charles took his vitals and there isn't a great deal of change, but that's very good in these situations. Better little change than a turn for the worse. Now Sam, apart from your side, does anything else hurt?" Two squeezes to Dean's hand.

"He says no. That's good right?"

"Very. Is the pain in your side less severe than before?"

One squeeze. "Yes."

"Excellent. Well there isn't really much for me to do here. I'll leave Charles here if he doesn't mind, and let me know if he wakes up – I reckon that could happen soon Dean."

He nodded to everyone in the room and left. Charles took his place back in the chair and read his magazine, almost as though nothing had happened.

"Hey, uh Charles?"

"Yes Dean?"

"You know, you didn't have to come in to work on your day off just to look after my brother. It's… real nice of you."

"I do this job to help people Dean. If it means missing the odd day off to help out then so be it. I haven't found myself a family yet so I'd just be sitting at home bored."

"So that's why you became a nurse? Why not a doctor?"

"I used to be a doctor actually."

"Really? But… why give that up to take up nursing? I'm not saying nursing is bad, it's just one hell of a pay cut, and all that time and money spent becoming a doctor was sort of…. wasted?"

"My parents and I inherited quite a bit from wealthy relatives, so money isn't really an issue for me. I mean, being a doctor is fine is a great job, but there's a lot less one on one time with patients. You have to go in, make a diagnosis, then see the next patient. Nurses just get more time with people, and that's the aspect of the job I liked best. Hence the career change. Stuff the money, and stuff anyway who thinks I'm gay for being a nurse, I'd probably get more pussy than any of them put together."

Dean burst out laughing. "Good for you man! You made me think twice about questioning your sexuality!"

"Damn right. Although I wouldn't be able to do anything if you did. Kicking someone's ass would just get me fired. Plus, despite my size, I'm a bit useless at fighting."

"A word of advice Hulk – don't tell anyone else that."

"Noted. I only told you because I know you wouldn't dare attack me, you'd have a little brother to answer for."

"How did you know what a goody-two-shoes he is?"

"I have a big brother who is a lot like you. Just took a guess that Sam would be a bit like me. Seems I'm right."

"Maybe you two should go for some coffee when he wakes up. Hear that Sammy, got you a nice date!" Two squeezes.

"Ah, sorry Charles, don't think he's interested."

"Damn. He's so fine too." He replied sarcastically. Both men fell into fit of hysterics.

"Afternoon all! Ah dang, I missed the joke." Bobby walked in moments later.

"Hey Bobby, just mocking the nurse here! In other news, guess what? Sam can hear us and move his hand! Hey Sammy, Bobby's here!" Dean was practically delirious, and Bobby couldn't blame him. After days of nothing, a response from Sam was just what all three of them needed. Since Bobby was now here, Charles made a quiet retreat to his little corner and continued reading his magazine.

"Well glad you gave me time to guess. Anyway, howdy Sam, nice for you to join us again. You feeling any better?"

Three squeezes. "Three? I think that means he feels about the same, 'm I right Sam?" One squeeze. "Right Ok, got it. He's about the same Bobby."

"Yeah I figured that out the first time. So, he thinking of waking up completely?"

"He can't open his eyes yet, but he's trying. Or maybe he is enjoying being a damsel in distress too much?" Dean felt Sam's index finger flicking at him. He figured that was hand talk for _piss off Dean. _

"Haha! I just know that would have been accompanied by the bitch face!" Sam flicked him again. Dean just laughed.

"Am I missing something here? I haven't been able to develop telepathy yet."

"He is flicking his finger at my hand, his way of yelling at me. Still the same bitch as before." Another flick. "Yup, and I'm the jerk. Now stop tickling my hand and focus your energy on waking up 'k?"

xxx

Dean and Bobby ate the sandwiches Bobby had purchased at a gas station on his way back to the hospital. The hospital did have a café, but as Dean so politely put it, "I'd rather eat my own shit than hospital food." So gas station grub it was. The whole time they sat there, Dean had never once let go of Sam's hand. He would ask random questions, just to feel Sam squeezing his hand in response. But he couldn't sit there forever.

"Dammit! I gotta take a leak, but…. Err…."

"Dean, Sam can hear us, I'm sure if you explain he can handle you leaving him for two minutes. He's twenty-three, not two."

"Sammy, remind me to kick his ass when we get home. I'll be right back!" Sam squeezed once in response and dean ran to the bathroom.

"That boy is gonna end me, it's like looking after a toddler."

"I heard that Bobby! Cheeky bastard!" Dean flushed the toilet, washed his hands and returned to Sam's side, clasping his hand once more.

"Still here Sammy?" Another squeeze. "Good boy."

"He ain't a dog you know Dean. No need to patronise him."

"I'm not! I always talk to him like that."

"Geez, how do you put up with that Sam? I'd've suffocated him by now."

"Bobby shut up!"

The two men continued to playfully argue, unaware that their companion had slowly begun to open his eyes.

"Seriously, you two should learn to grow up."


	8. Chapter 8

**Wow! I don't believe it! But I was writing this, I realised that there wasn't much more I could do - this is it, the final chapter! I have had so much fun with this! Thank you to everyone for your kind support!**

**In regards to chapter 7, I have replaced it to remove the word "faggot". A reader made a complaint about it's use, and I want to make an apology. I write these stories purely to entertain and share my love for Supernatural (and any other show I write about), and it is certainly not to cause offense. It upset me a lot that I have offended someone as I like to consider myself a good person who hurts no one, so the fact that I cause offense fills me with guilt, so I hope that changing the chapter will make amends. I also sent the reader a private apology. I do not mind people not enjoying my stories for plot or writing style, but not for causing them offense. Again I would like to highlight the fact that I am in no way homophobic and I was purely highlighting a prejudice many male nurses face (I have friends who are nurses) through humour. For this story I have tried to be American to suit the Supernatural style, but I am Scottish and faggot is not a word used where I come from, so I didn't know how bad it is to some (well it is actually used to mean a type of food or a polite insult to friends meaning idiot, not a derogatory term)**. **However, I know now so will not use it again. I thank the reader for letting me know my error so that I can change things.**

**Anyway, enjoy this chapter, apologies for the long discussion here! I hope you have liked my story as much as I have enjoyed writing it (and reading your feedback!) XD I hope you don't feel it ended to abruptly, but I didn't want to drag anything out. And you know the Winchesters - they don't like the public hearing them "talking" :P **

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><p>Dean's head spun around to face his little brother so fast he could have sworn it would fall off. "Did you just speak?"<p>

"No Dean, you're just imaging it." Sam said sarcastically, discarding the oxygen mask he had just removed from his face. He no longer felt any difficulty breathing.

"Glad to see you haven't lost your sense of humour, bitch."

"Jerk." The brothers smiled at each other.

"Well girls, I hate to spoil this beautiful moment, but Charles here is anxious to join the love in." Bobby couldn't hide the massive grin that had spread across his face.

"Um… what Mr Singer means is, I need to look you over Sam. Now that you're fully awake."

"But I feel Ok. I mean, my side doesn't hurt as much, no cramps, my breathing's a lot better, and my nausea is gone."

"My shirt is happy about that." Sam just glared at Dean.

"That's great Sam, but it's my job. And I gotta call Dr Matthews, he needs to know about your condition."

"All right, sorry. I just hate being examined, it's embarrassing."

"Trust me, you ain't got nothing to be embarrassed about. Oh honestly Dean don't look at me like that, it's not what I meant." Dean giggled at his own immaturity and Sam rolled his eyes. Charles went through the usual check-up routine, and then paged Dr Matthews. "Wow, I am impressed. You have improved a lot, even since the last check-up. "

"You rang?" Dr Matthews called from the door.

"Enough with the lurch jokes man. Anyway Sam here is awake. And he's looking good. Health wise." The last part was in response to a suggestive glare from Dean.

"Don't take any notice of Dean, Charles. He only teases people he likes."

"You should get sick more often Sam, you are getting funny!" Dean laughed at his brother, who laughed in return, along with a bit of coughing and spluttering.

"Here, you need to drink some water. You sure you ain't gonna puke it back up?" Dean filled up a glass with the jug of water he'd been drinking (beer is out of the question when caring for Sam) and helped Sam take a few sips.

"I don't feel sick. I actually feel hungry."

"Can he eat doc? It'll have to be one of those girly salads, he don't eat real food."

"We have to take it slowly Sam. You haven't eaten in a while, for obvious reasons, and the body needs to get used to food again. You eat too much and Dean's gonna lose another shirt. For the record Dean, salad is Sam's best option. It's light and healthy. You should take after Sam's example Dean, or you'll be obese by the time you're thirty-five. You wouldn't be able to hunt in that state."

"Err, hunt? Don't you mean, work?" Dean eyed Charles, not wanting to give away their secret.

"Relax Dean, Charles is very familiar with hunting; and you boys are particularly famous in that department. Anyway, enough chit chat. I need to take a look at you Sam."

"Splendid, more prodding." Dr Matthews ignored more of Sam's sarcasm and proceeded with his examinations. He then spoke quietly with Charles and both men shook their heads in disbelief.

"I don't believe it Sam. Your vitals are excellent, and your breathing is normal. Someone with severe sepsis should not be doing this well in such as short space of time. Especially seeing as you were in a coma-like state less than 24 hours ago. It's nothing short of remarkable. I'd like to take some more blood if I may, I'm anxious to see if the bacteria is still in your blood."

"Um, sure. I guess. How is this possible?"

"Beats me son. I guess anything is possible in medicine. I would be have tempted to write a journal about you, but sadly it would involve a lot more poking and prodding from other medical professionals, and I know you want to stay out of the lime light." Dr Matthews quickly took some more blood from Sam and sent Charles to the lab. "Would you like a little privacy for a while? I think you can avoid medical supervision for a while."

"Yeah, thanks a lot." Sam was incredibly confused. He had in fact been aware of his surroundings before he could move his hand and he had been listening intently to the doctors and nurses. On the rare occasion that Dean left the room, they were able to be more frank with Bobby about Sam's condition, and they didn't hold out much hope for him, particularly since his cardiac arrest. Most feigned optimism in order to keep Dean sane. He was near to a complete breakdown, and voicing any concerns may have sent him over the edge, which is hardly what a busy hospital needed. Sam was thankful for that. His heart nearly broke at Dean's confession. He never realised how much he truly meant to Dean. Why the idiot hadn't told him this before he had no idea. _Yeah Sam, like you were about to do the same to Dean? Too much of a chick-flick moment for a conscious Winchester. _Sam chuckled at himself.

"You wanna let me in on that joke?" Dean again.

"I just finding it funny that in order for us to have any sort of heart to heart, one brother has to be unconscious. We are pretty lame."

"Ha, yeah. We are screwed up; does this mean we have to have them when we are both fully conscious now?"

"Yup. Don't worry, I'll let you run out, drink and have sex with as many girls as you like to satisfy your masculine ego. Honestly, a feminine side is nothing to be ashamed of. Girls dig that. Jess certainly did…" Sam sadly stared off into the distance as he thought of his love.

"You still miss her a lot, don't you?"

"Every damn day. I know demons lie, but yellow-eyes was being honest when he said I planned to marry her. I guess searching for a normal life was probably the dumbest thing I have ever done. All I did was get a sweet, innocent girl killed; she was way better off never knowing me." Sam's eyes started to fill up, but he quickly regained his composure.

Dean placed a hand on his shoulder. "Don't talk like that Sam. She loved you, I could see that in her eyes the one time I met her. I bet you, if there is a heaven, and she's up there looking down on you, I know she wouldn't regret being with you. Quit beating yourself up about what happened, it wasn't your fault. You hear me?"

"Tell you what. I'll stop blaming myself for Jessica's death if you stop blaming yourself for dad's death." Dean didn't say anything. "Exactly. Face it Dean, you and I are gonna take the blame for the deaths of everyone we love. I can deal with it if I know you don't blame me. And I don't blame you. Just one favour though – if you want to make me angry and upset in the future, please don't repeat your actions from before."

"I swear to it Sam. Do we, like, have to hug now?" Sam playfully punched his brother, and much to his surprise, Dean actually hugged him. The action told Sam many things – I'm glad you're Ok; I'm sorry for everything; I love you. Sam returned the embrace, making sure Dean knew how he felt too.

"Well this has gotten really awkward for me. I wasn't gonna say nothing before but…. I wish you had told me you needed a private moment and I would have left –"

"Bobby, shut the Hell up and join the love in!" Dean yelled, and motioned the old hunter to join them. That was Dean's way of thanking him for being there, and for being like a father to both of them. Bobby didn't refuse.

xxx

Sam didn't fall asleep that night. His brother and Bobby were practically passed out on the hospital chairs that they had inhabited for over a week, but Sam couldn't. He wasn't afraid of the nightmares though. He just couldn't understand why he was Ok. He was grateful of course, but it made no sense. Sam was no doctor, but being a hunter meant knowing basic first aid, which highlighted the importance of disinfecting wounds. Out of curiosity, he had research sepsis, and knew he shouldn't have recovered this quickly. Some patients are sick for weeks, and can still die even up to six months later. So how has he made a complete recovery in a matter of days? He wondered if it was in any way related to his abilities. Are all psychics like him? This would be something he had to research; but he would do this alone. Dean was going through enough without having to face even more problems related to his psychic powers. So he let him rest. He refused to let Dean die for him, no matter what.

xxx

Three days later and Sam was released from hospital. Remarkably, his blood was now free of all infection and his side had almost completely healed. Sam could have danced with joy at being back at Bobby's – his home as far as he was concerned. He inhaled vigorously.

"Ah! That smells so good! No more antiseptic!"

"I think you're still sick Sam! No one in their right mind could think this place smells good – OW! I'm just kidding Bobby!"

"You need to learn some respect when you are in my property. And that includes showing respect TO my property."

Sam laughed at the two bickering men. "You know, I don't know why that Charles guy hung around, you two are far too stressful to be around. He's a good guy. I hope we keep in touch."

"You mean you didn't get his number?"

"Haha Dean, that whole 'Charles and I being in love' lark is just getting old. You need some new material."

"Hey I'm the funniest man here! In all seriousness though, he is a good guy. He says that he and his big brother are a lot like you and me. Never met the brother so I can't really say, but he is a clever clogs goody-two shoes just like you. And the prejudice he faces being a male nurse doesn't bother him. Not like anyone should care about anyone's sexual orientation."

"Wow, that's deep for you Dean, I'm impressed!"

"Shut up. Bitch."

"Jerk."

"Eejits." Bobby joined in.

"Old git!" Both men cried in unison. "Jinx!" Dean pointed at Sam and ran around like a lunatic, with a bemused little brother laughing and shaking his head.

_Those boys are gonna be the death of me… _Bobby thought, but glad that the two boys were talking again and could start their lives afresh. Sure, they had a long way to go, but they would be all right. As long as they had each other, they'd be Ok.

xxx

"I don't get it sire. You had the Winchester boy within easy reach, yet you have let him go again." A young man with black eyes was talking to an older man, outside Bobby Singer's scrap metal yard. "In fact, we could just go in there and take him."

"With the salt lines and devil traps in there? I may be all right, but you're my son and I ain't getting you killed." The older man gazed lovingly at the younger, yellow eyes gleaming in the sunlight. "Besides, I need Sam to be at the final showdown in Cold Oak. I'll only take him before that if he comes willingly."

"He won't do that, not with Dean Winchester around. You could just kill him – I mean, you have the Colt now. He can't harm you."

"A deal is a deal. I was not to harm Dean in exchange for John Winchester's soul. I may be a liar, a cheat, and a killer, but I am a man of my word. Even to that piece of crap. Lilith would send me back to Hell quicker than you could say Christo."

The young man cringed and hissed at the name. "Oh I'm sorry, I forget how that word affects… lesser demons."

"It's Ok. You know, I'm curious. How did Sam get better so quickly? Did you cure him? I never saw you go in there…"

"My my, you really are young. Don't underestimate the power of ancient demon blood. It has rather curious healing powers. I fed blood to him as a baby, and now it flows readily through his veins. No mortal disease could kill him that easily. Weapons yes, disease… not so much. It's hard to explain; it only works in some individuals. It just highlights to me how powerful our young Winchester is. The perfect vessel for Lucifer. I truly have made an excellent choice. I cannot wait for our destinies to be fulfilled."


End file.
